Beowulf Brings His Trophies—Hrothgar’s Gratitude
Beowulf spake, offspring of Ecgtheow: “Lo! we blithely have brought thee, bairn of Healfdene, Prince of the Scyldings, these presents from ocean Which thine eye looketh on, for an emblem of glory. I came off alive from this, narrowly ’scaping: In war ’neath the water the work with great pains I Performed, and the fight had been finished quite nearly, Had God not defended me. I failed in the battle Aught to accomplish, aided by Hrunting, Though that weapon was worthy, but the Wielder of earth-folk Gave me willingly to see on the wall a Heavy old hand-sword hanging in splendor (He guided most often the lorn and the friendless), That I swung as a weapon. The wards of the house then I killed in the conflict (when occasion was given me). Then the battle-sword burned, the brand that was lifted, As the blood-current sprang, hottest of war-sweats; Seizing the hilt, from my foes I offbore it; I avenged as I ought to their acts of malignity, The murder of Danemen. I then make thee this promise, Thou’lt be able in Heorot careless to slumber With thy throng of heroes and the thanes of thy people Every and each, of greater and lesser, And thou needest not fear for them from the selfsame direction As thou formerly fearedst, oh, folk-lord of Scyldings, End-day for earlmen.” To the age-hoary man then, The gray-haired chieftain, the gold-fashioned sword-hilt, Old-work of giants, was thereupon given; Since the fall of the fiends, it fell to the keeping Of the wielder of Danemen, the wonder-smith’s labor, And the bad-mooded being abandoned this world then, Opponent of God, victim of murder, And also his mother; it went to the keeping Of the best of the world-kings, where waters encircle, Who the scot divided in Scylding dominion. Hrothgar discoursed, the hilt he regarded, The ancient heirloom where an old-time contention’s Beginning was graven: the gurgling currents, The flood slew thereafter